The Opening
by onwardintolight
Summary: My version of ESB, or rather, ESB from Leia's POV. A journey from despair to hope.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:**

Trigger warning for self-harm towards the end of Chapter 1.

This starts out pretty dark, but I promise light will break through.

Musical inspirations:

\- Never Look Away, Vienna Teng  
\- National Anthem (Video Monologue), Lana Del Rey  
\- Frozen, Madonna  
\- Clearest Blue, CHVRCHES

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

In the end, she'd rather they both left. She'd rather know that they existed out there, somewhere away in the void (even if that meant away from her): Luke hunting for clues on his quest to become a Jedi, Han plying his illegal trade, paying off his debts and roaming the galaxy freely with Chewie. Maybe they'd be happy. It would at least give her comfort to know that they were out there, somewhere, instead of here on this frozen hellhole, dead in the snow.

 _Because of me_. Leia stopped pacing and closed her eyes, leaning into the familiar knife's edge, her mantra. _My fault._ In the end, it all boiled down to her. Her mistakes aboard the Tantive IV; the reason her friends got caught up in all this in the first place. Her convincing them to stay (didn't she coax and plead?). Her having the audacity to open up her heart and let them in, even though she knew they deserved so much more than to be pulled into her black hole of guilt and pain. Yes, she'd told herself she was just trying to retain some of the Rebellion's greatest assets, and while that was true on one level, Han was absolutely right — this was so much more. She did need them, both of them, in ways she didn't quite understand, and couldn't fully admit to herself.

Once, in the aftermath of the Battle of Yavin, while she was still in the medcenter recovering before the awards ceremony the next day, she had found herself teetering on the edge of a cliff, looking over a dark, roiling ocean that seethed with grief and despair. The Alliance leaders had saved her from falling, then, with their offer of a new home and purpose. She had thrown herself completely into her new life, dedicated, above all, to justice (and, particularly at first, revenge). Afterwards, whenever that storm-tossed swell threatened to engulf her again, when duty and purpose were suddenly no longer enough, and she caved under the weight of all she'd lost and all she continued to lose, Han and Luke had always been there to ward off the waves, each in his own way.

Now she was faced with losing them both in one cruel, needless stroke, and she felt the waters rising again.

Leia leaned back against the support of an X-wing, arms wrapped around her against the chill of the hangar. Its door was wide open to the swirling snow and the swift-falling night. The temperatures were plunging, along with her hope. Artoo and Threepio, those two faithful droids, were at the door, searching the gloom. Chewie stood nearby, now still, now pacing, a mirror image of her own turmoil. Neither of them said a word, as if some moment's lack of vigil would doom the ones they waited for.

 _Any moment,_ Leia thought, _any moment now, they could come striding through the door_. She seized on that image in an effort to shut out the unwanted ones. Han would probably shake his head to fling off the snow and make some quip about the cold and the danger. Luke would grin, then come over to reassure her that everything was okay. If he could be found. If he wasn't severely injured, or…. Despite her best efforts, the scenarios slipped their way into her mind, a parade of horrific images that she couldn't shut out: Crevasses. Whiteouts. Bounty hunters. Imperial discovery. Or something else, more murky: there was still so much they didn't know about their current planet of residence, and she had a feeling she couldn't shake that there was something menacing lurking beneath the endless ice and snow.

Leia fought against the rising waves, tried to will the images out of her head. They had to come back. They had to. They were hardy, they'd been through so much already, and they had so much life still to live. This couldn't be it; they had to be alive out there. _Any moment now,_ Leia repeated to herself.

The chill grew, as did her sense of dread.

Movement on the hangar floor. "Sir, all the patrols are in. Still no sign of —" the deck lieutenant was hushed by a motion from his commanding officer. It didn't matter; Leia knew what they were saying, anyway. She stood still, willing herself not to feel, to be strong against the panic beginning to claw at her chest. She vaguely acknowledged Threepio approaching and confirming that Artoo's sensors hadn't picked up anything. The officer, Bren Derlin — a good man, who had gone on the mission to Omereth with Luke a few years ago — and the deck lieutenant, a newer recruit whose name Leia hadn't learned yet, were walking towards her. She knew what was coming, and she could do nothing to stop it.

"Your Highness," Major Derlin said gently, "There's nothing more that we can do tonight. The shield doors must be closed."

 _No. Please. Not now, not yet._ Leia felt half-crazed. She wanted to scream, wanted to order them to keep it open all night, regulations be damned, even if it cost them valuable supplies and froze all the fuel and them, too. She found herself nodding instead.

Duty. The Rebellion had to come before personal interests. She knew that, believed it; she'd had a lifetime of training for it. She'd ordered men and women she cared about into battle, knowing that they might not make it out alive. Many hadn't. She'd been ready to give up her own life, too, time and time again. Anyone involved in the Rebellion knew the risks. But that didn't make the cost any easier for her to bear, nor did it make this moment feel like anything less than a knife to her chest.

The doors began their creaking and groaning. Leia stood frozen, watching their slow progress as they shut out the icy night gales and the two people she loved most in the galaxy. As they shuddered closer and closer, she suddenly had a strange feeling that she was watching them close not only on her friends' lives, but on her own as well. Her future dwindled down to just a sliver, then disappeared with a clang: sudden, inevitable, and horribly final. She stood for a moment, numb, then turned and walked blindly back to her room.

* * *

The door swished shut behind her, and Leia collapsed onto her cot. She lay there unmoving, staring blankly at the ceiling, the waves of her emotions buffeting her full-force now. She had shut out Luke and Han, left them to die out in the night's storms. They might still survive, of course, but, as Threepio had so helpfully indicated, the chances were very slim.

She was going to lose them, too.

In the space of a second she was back on the bridge of the Death Star, held fast by an iron hand clamped on her shoulder, watching as her planet erupted into flame and dust. She couldn't breathe. She felt the explosion mounting inside her once more, the panic finally tearing its way free. She was shaking, gasping for air; all things faded but the images of her home's annihilation and Han and Luke, frozen in the snow. She sat up and swallowed down bile, fighting the waves of nausea, and tried to steady her breathing.

She would not think of them dead. Leia choked back a sob as she put her head in her hands, still shivering despite her efforts at control. She remembered Luke's face as he came to retrieve her from her cell on the Death Star, all hope and youthful exuberance, the first friendly face she'd seen in what felt like a lifetime. How they had shared some of their grief with each other on the trip back to Yavin IV, taking comfort in one another's understanding and presence in a way she was still surprised at. While Luke could sometimes be a little naive and caught up in his own world, they'd had many moments like that since — finding strength and solace in their shared loss and common purpose. She felt such a strong connection to him; so much so that it sometimes unnerved her. It was like she had always known him, somehow. And while she felt his admiration for her sometimes bordered on worship, she relished the much-needed consistency of his friendship. He was a rock of pure goodness; a beacon of hope in the midst of the swirling uncertainties and the darkness of their time.

Han, on the other hand, had irritated her to the core with his continuous threatened inconstancy. But despite his words, he had stayed with them for most of three years, and she had come to rely on his presence in her life, too. Underneath the aura he gave off of devil-may-care rogue, she had discovered a depth of sensitivity and caring that few might suspect (and which she occasionally questioned herself, when he was being particularly difficult). Whenever she or Luke were having a hard time, Han would always be there to help however he could, whether through humor, fun, a comforting hand on the shoulder, encouraging words, or offers for them to dig themselves deep into his treasured stash of Corellian ale (this she had refused — aside from the questionable propriety of a princess in wartime getting drunk, she feared losing control, particularly in the presence of Han, however tempting it might be to escape everything for awhile). Swashbuckling scoundrel Han might be, but he had a heart of gold, and he had proven that time and time again with his actions, always coming through when they needed him.

Also — Leia couldn't hold back tears from her eyes at the thought of it — Han _saw_ her, the real her. While others tended to hold her at a distance due to her title, and even Luke put her on a pedestal, Han had dispensed with the formalities from the start and treated her as an equal, a peer. This was shocking, occasionally annoying, and overall incredibly comforting. She'd had very few people in her life outside of her family who had looked beyond the royal title to see just her, the real Leia, and this was like a breath of fresh mountain air. Han saw her, and by now he knew her better than anyone else still alive — although Luke was a close second.

Then came the undercover mission to Ord Mantell, and everything had changed. She still remembered how close Han had been that night at the resort in the mountains — had it only been a few weeks? His eyes were soft and open as they talked over dinner, and afterwards, on the veranda, his arm was around her waist, and his other hand was reaching up to brush a lock of her hair aside, slipping around the back of her neck, drawing her closer, closer — then came the commotion, and the sudden agony in her arm; the bounty hunter had missed Han and shot her instead. They had escaped, and her arm had since healed, but that was the turning point. Han's walls had come up again (and she supposed hers had too — it wasn't like they needed much prodding), and he had been insufferable ever since. She felt like he was playing some sort of game: There were times when he softened again, just for a moment, and a version of the man she had come to rely on (love) before would show himself, but those times were growing less and less frequent. More often he'd make some inappropriate comment or try another one of his ridiculous attempts at flirting, only to lash out at her the next moment. Their fights had become epic; she knew they were the gossip of everyone on base, and yet he set her off in ways she couldn't seem to control. She was losing him; she was sure of it: He had always talked of leaving, had even followed through once for a short time, but now it looked as if he were really going to go for good.

She thought about their last fight, just that afternoon, in the south passage. He had abruptly told her goodbye and then stormed off, and she had followed, heart sinking, repeating her same old pleas for him to stay. He wanted more from her than that, though, more she wasn't sure she had left to give, especially if he was eventually just going to turn around and leave. The last thing she had said to him was "I'd just as soon kiss a wookiee," and that was a lie, and oh how she wished she could have left him with something else, something that might keep him here, but no, she was too broken, and she knew it. She was a center from which suffering radiated outward. People died because of her, and really, she was already dead, too. She had no future beyond the Rebellion. Why would she, how could she possibly convince anyone to stay for her own sake?

In the beginning, her drive for justice had kept her going, kept the ocean of grief at bay, kept the fissures of despair from opening up and swallowing her whole. She still believed in the cause of the Rebellion as much as ever, was just as committed to the fight, but time had chipped away at the floodgates and revealed the fault lines, and lately it had been harder and harder to control.

Now the cracks were wide open, and the dark ocean was frothing at her feet, and there was Alderaan again, engulfed in flame, and she was being tortured, writhing on the floor of her cell, and Han and Luke were pale and stiff, eyes glazed over and frosted, and her breath was coming ragged again, and there wasn't any other way out, and what hope did they really have anyway? Everything inside her was screaming, and she was furious at the galaxy, furious at the Empire, furious at the gods (if they even ever existed), furious at herself.

Turning towards the wall beside her, she reach out and touched it, acknowledging its smooth, icy contours, then pounded her fist into it, hard. She winced with pain, but she punched it again, first one fist, then the other, until her knuckles were red and bruised and she fell back on her bed, spent. After a breath, she rolled back over to the frozen surface and pressed the backs of her hands into it, letting the ice send its sharp tendrils of pain into her skin; pain which soon turned to comforting numbness. She breathed in and out slowly, trying to regain control. The familiar locks clicked back into place in her chest, taming the panic, stowing away her anger and grief. She hid her dreaded visions of Han and Luke beside the image of Alderaan's demise and tucked them back into a far corner of her mind, where they'd be harder to reach again for the present. Wiping her face clean of tears, she sat up slowly and grabbed her datapad. She felt emptied out. There was nothing left to feel now, and there was nothing left to do but work, and wait, in the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes:**

I've incorporated a few of the deleted scenes into my personal canon (one or two of which show up in this chapter), but I figure since they're deleted I get free reign to change/add a few things. :)

Trigger warnings for Chapter 2: Referenced self-harm, suicidal ideation

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

The call came in the morning. Leia startled awake from where she was slumped over her datapad, all sense of time lost — she must have inadvertently drifted off to sleep. Her comlink continued its incessant beeping from the table beside her cot, and she nearly tumbled over herself in an effort to reach it.

Thank the gods, they'd been found, and found alive.

The next few minutes were a blur as she raced to freshen up her hair and makeup and sprinted to the command center, anxious for the full report. Her gaze passed over everyone in the room, impatient, searching. They weren't there. She turned to General Rieekan, who had stepped up to her in the interim and put a hand on her shoulder. His eyes were reassuring. "They're in the medcenter, Your Highness —" she took in a sharp breath "— but don't worry, they'll be fine. Han survived the night without even a trace of hypothermia. He's already been examined and is cleared to go. It seems Luke ran into a nasty sort of creature out there, but his injuries are no longer life-threatening and he's expected to make a full recovery. He's been put in a bacta tank in room 110."

She wordlessly nodded her thanks and shot out the door, headed for the medical bay. Han was still there, talking with Chewie and looking as effortlessly casual as ever, but she knew him well enough to see the concern written beneath the shields of his composure. Before she was fully aware, she was in his arms, holding him tight, breathing in his warmth; the full, glorious reality of his physical presence. He chuckled down at her. "It's okay, Princess. We're not gonna be taken out by a little cold."

She pulled away, slightly embarrassed, not quite willing to meet his eyes. "I'm glad you made it back alive. How's Luke?"

He turned and nodded towards the far end of the room, where Luke hung suspended in clear slime, unconscious. "He'll be alright once the bacta treatment's over. He's got a whole lot of questions to answer when he gets out, though. He was nearly frozen when I found him, and it looked like he'd been mauled. I've got a feeling we're sharing a planet with something pretty unfriendly."

Looking at the claw marks across Luke's face and body, Leia had to agree. She turned her gaze back to Han. "So how did you manage to last all night out there?"

"I actually found him pretty quickly, but my tauntaun gave out on me so I couldn't bring him back. I was, uh, able to use the tauntaun to warm him up. Got the shelter up soon after and we were cozy and dry until morning."

Leia raised her eyebrows and nodded. "Good work," she said. She looked over at Luke again. The Too-Onebee droid initiated the process of removing him from the tank, and she let out a sigh. "Thank you," she added softly. "I don't think anyone else would have risked going out there to look for him like you did."

"Well, it's a good thing I was still around." She felt his eyes shift away from her. "Not that it's going to keep me around much longer. As soon as he's back on his feet and we have some answers, I'm off."

"Oh, that's right," Leia said icily, "I forgot that you don't actually care." What was it about this man that sent her from zero to thermal detonator in the span of a second? "Excuse me, but I'm going to go get some work done. Have someone comm me when Luke's awake."

"Oh, come on, Your Worshipfulness," Han yelled after her, but she was already out the door, speed-walking down the hall and nursing a very strong desire to punch something again. Why did he have to ruin everything? _He's really going to leave this time._ She could feel the truth woven into his threats as of late, the air of finality about his words. _He's going to leave, and it's your fault._ Why did he matter so much to her, anyway? Why couldn't she just let him in, or let him go?

She didn't want to think about this right now, and when she didn't want to think, she found that work usually offered a good means of escape from the mazes in her mind. She made her way back to the command center.

* * *

She was waist-deep wading through scout reports when she got the comm that Luke was out of the bacta and awake. It wasn't from Han — he must have coerced the medical droid into contacting her instead, which was just as well. She didn't really care to talk to him right now anyway. Besides, with General Rieekan's new orders that no ships could leave base yet, it looked like she'd have plenty of chances to see him again in the short-term once things had cooled off a bit more between them. She finished glancing over the report she had open — from a member of Gold Squadron who was tracking the Empire's recent worrisome movements near Naboo — sent off a quick memo, then hurried back to the medical bay.

Luke smiled up at her as she entered, his face like sunshine. A wave of affection and gratitude washed over her. Sitting here, alive and well beyond all odds, was not only what was likely the Rebellion's greatest hope, but her dear friend; the solar light to her cold, barren rock. He, at least, would be around. "Luke," she said, as she stood there, frozen in place, taking him in. She knew that the emotion of the night before was playing out on her face, but she didn't mind, not so much with him. "I'm so glad you're back."

Luke's smile grew wider. "It's good to see you too, Leia." He patted the edge of the bed, beckoning her closer, and she obliged. Leaning over, she examined the wounds on his face, gently tracing the biggest mark with a finger.

"The bacta's growing really well. Your scars ought to be gone in a day or so. Does it hurt?"

"It's fine," Luke shrugged off her question, and gazed at her with an intensity that slightly unnerved her. She wondered what horrors he had faced out there in the snow. "Leia…."

"Hmm?" she prodded. If he needed to talk about it, she wanted him to feel free to do so with her.

"When I was out in that storm, I…" he trailed off again.

"I was real worried," she said, tucking a strand of sandy hair behind his ear, willing him to go on.

"YOU were worried?" He chuckled, but then quickly grew serious again. "Look, it got me thinking, you know… I might never get the chance —" he stopped and closed his eyes.

"Tell me," she said gently. He looked back up at her, his clear blue eyes searching her own, a mix of warmth and affection and fear and… something else? She suddenly noticed that they were very close, and he was leaning in closer still, as if he was going to —

"Oh, it's so good to see you fully functional again!" exclaimed Threepio, Artoo whistling his agreement as the two droids entered the room. Luke shook himself, as if released from a spell, and Leia stood up, suddenly anxious to put some distance between them. Had Luke actually been about to kiss her? And had she very nearly let him? She loved him, but not in that way, and yet right now her mind was such a mess of fear and confusion and exhaustion and gratitude that she didn't quite know what she was feeling. She couldn't understand herself lately, and she didn't like that at all. If she was this out of control, best to leave now before she said or did anything she'd regret.

"You relax now," she said, perhaps a bit more icily than she meant to. "I'll be back later." She turned to go.

"Leia!" Luke's voice stopped her, insistent, and she turned around, raising her eyebrows. "I have to go away for awhile," he said quietly, calmly, as if his words weren't a punch to the gut.

"What?" she whispered. "Where?"

"To another system… not far from here." He was being vague, infuriatingly so. And the way he was talking made it sound so suspiciously longterm. A jolt of panic swept through her, and Leia felt her fear rising, along with her temper.

"That's great, that's just great. Why doesn't everybody just take off?"

"What are you talking about?"

"First Han, now you…." she sputtered, and sighed angrily, more at herself than at Luke. In the end, she only had herself to blame for feeling this way. "When am I going to learn not to count on anyone but myself?"

Luke looked troubled. "I didn't know he was leaving."

"You know," Leia continued, voice tight, "I was getting along fine before I met you two moon jockeys." She hadn't been, and she was well aware of it, but at this point being terminated on the Death Star was sounding more and more appealing. Currently, her losses were just growing more and more painful, and she was tired. So very tired.

"Calm down," Luke said placatingly. "Tell me about Han."

"Oh, he's got to pay off that criminal he's in debt to."

"Jabba the Hutt? Leia, he's no joke. I'm from Tatooine, remember? I _know_ Jabba. He's awful." Luke sighed. "Look, I know this is hard for you, Leia, but after what happened on Ord Mantell, I think Han is right to try and fix this before it causes any more damage. I'm sure once Han gets his debts squared away, he'll come back."

"Right," Leia muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because he's made it so clear in the past that he wants to be here."

"I wouldn't say that's the impression I've gotten, Mistress Leia," Threepio interjected. As usual, his six million forms of communication lacked proper fluency in sarcasm.

"How're you feeling, kid?" boomed the subject of their discussion as he entered the room, Chewie following along close behind. Leia looked away, wishing she'd been able to disappear a bit quicker. Han leaned over the side of Luke's bed, taking his turn examining his wounds. His relief was evident. "You don't look so bad to me — in fact, you look strong enough to pull the ears off a gundark!"

"Thanks to you!" Luke grinned.

"That's two you owe me, junior." With that, Han turned around to face Leia, and she braced herself for the coming onslaught. "Well, Your Worship," he said, looking infuriatingly smug, "it looks like you've managed to keep me around for a little while longer."

Leia wished she could wipe the smirk off his face with the sheer force of her glare. "I had nothing to do with it," she replied. At least she didn't think she did. She sometimes got the feeling her parents' friend Carlist was more perceptive of things than he let on, but the bottom line was that she agreed with his decision from a tactical perspective regardless of how the consequences affected her and Han. "General Rieekan thinks it's dangerous for any ship to leave the system until we've activated the energy shield."

Han's smirk only grew wider. "That's a good story. I think you just can't bear to let a gorgeous guy like me out of your sight."

Leia flushed with anger. Oh, so it was going to be this way again. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her? She was sick and tired of this game; sick and tired of her emotions being played with like holomonsters on a dejarik board. She took aim and shot back. "I don't know where you get your delusions, laser brains."

Chewie chuckled in amusement from over by the wall, and Han sent him a look. "Laugh it up, fuzzball. You didn't see us alone in the south passage." He strutted over to Leia and put his arm around her. "She expressed her true feelings for me," he announced.

Leia's jaw dropped as she looked up at him, blood boiling. Her true feelings? _Really?_ "Why you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking… NERF-HERDER!" She spat out. She acknowledged that maybe those weren't her best spur-of-the-moment insults, but she could barely think straight. Her anger was the only thing holding back her tears.

Han actually looked kind of injured. "Who's scruffy-looking?" he muttered. He turned to Luke, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. "I must have hit pretty close to the mark to get her all riled up like that, huh, kid?" Luke nodded. He looked tired, and disappointment was written all over his face. Leia stared at them both for a second, and felt a new wave of both pity and gratitude for Luke. She found herself walking over to his bedside, and she glared up at Han. "Well, I guess you don't know everything about women, yet," she said, and then she bent down and kissed Luke soundly on the lips. With that, she turned on her heel and left the room.

* * *

Leia regretted the kiss immediately. It didn't feel right, but it wasn't until she stopped for breath in a mostly-deserted hallway and her pulse began to return to normal that she allowed herself to think about why. She was struck by a wave of guilt. She had taken advantage of Luke, and of his now obvious feelings for her. She had used him as a pawn in the fight between her and Han. She had also been moved by pity, and nobody deserved to be kissed out of pity, especially Luke. She had been right earlier: She didn't love him like that, and she owed it to him to be honest. Besides, he deserved so much better. In the end she had nothing to give.

She sighed. She was furious with herself; she couldn't believe her own actions were so out-of-control, and she wished whole-heartedly that she had stormed out of the room a little earlier. She'd have to have a talk with Luke soon, and it would probably only serve to hurt him even more. She rubbed her knuckles, still splotchy with bruises, and willed herself to ignore the urge to add some more. It had already been a few minutes since General Rieekan had called for all important personnel to report to the command center; it was time she got herself together and got there.

She arrived just after Han, and the news was not good. The droid-like thing prowling outside the base was currently unidentified, but she had her suspicions as to what it was. This day was about to get a whole lot worse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes:**

Trigger warning for this chapter: attempted suicide.

Hope often comes from unexpected places, in unexpected ways, and despite all the pain and sorrow, there will always be unexpected joys and overwhelming beauty still to come.

After this chapter, I'm going on hiatus over the holidays and possibly a little longer until I have a firm grip on this story's second act, but I promise I'll be back with the next chapter as soon as I can. Thanks everyone for all the kind and encouraging reviews!

* * *

Echo Base was a flurry of activity as everyone prepared for the evacuation. The amalgamated fear of all the rebel occupants in the face of Imperial invasion lingered in the air, adding to Leia's already skyrocketing anxiety and sense of dread. She had just finished briefing a group of pilots on their mission, and now she headed back to her room to quickly pack her things. The door closed behind her, shutting out the noise and confusion, and she took a deep breath.

They'd had to evacuate bases before, but this time felt different. She had a sense of imminent doom that she couldn't shake off. This was it — Han would be leaving today, Luke would certainly be leaving as well, and life was changing irrevocably once again. She felt her breath grow shallow, and she determinedly pushed back the images that once again crept into her mind.

She looked around the room at her meager possessions. Everything was mostly packed in a travel case already, as per her usual habit, so there wasn't much to do. She grabbed the extra snowsuits that were lying on a crate by the wall, and was alarmed to find that they had somehow been soaked and then refrozen stiff. She had half a mind to just leave them on this forsaken planet, but she stuffed them into the crate anyway. Then, turning to the other crate she used as a bedside table, she regarded the few things she kept on top — an extra datapad she used occasionally for journaling, an Alderaanian candle decorated with intertwining tree motifs that she often lit for remembrance of home (and some semblance of devotion to the old gods and spirits), and an amulet made of brilliant chalcedony, set with sparkling cerulean cala-jewels, that her mother had given her before Leia left Alderaan to take up her role as senator. "For your protection, Lelila," Breha had whispered, smiling softly, smoothing a stray strand of Leia's chestnut hair back into its elaborate coif. "Chalcedony from the mountains, cala-jewels from the sea. The life-blood of Alderaan goes with you, as do our prayers. Keep this close and let it be a reminder of our love."

Leia pushed back the memory. The amulet was likely as dead as the people and the planet that gave it, as lifeless as the Molator and the other spirits who had blessed it. What protection had it given her, in the end? She had survived, at the cost of her home and everyone she had loved, and for what? This endless torture of haunting memories and ever-multiplying losses? This feeble fight against the dark cancer that consumed the galaxy, in which she was constantly ordering people to their deaths? She tossed the datapad, candle and amulet into her travel case.

 _Let it be a reminder of our love._ She paused. She had dreamed, once, back in her cell on the Death Star, that her parents had forgiven her. She wasn't sure that she believed the dream, and she didn't feel like she deserved love, much less forgiveness, but still… the amulet held the memory of it, at least. She took it back out of the travel case and slipped it into the pouch she carried beneath the outer layer of her jumpsuit. She would hold that memory close until the end.

For this was the end, wasn't it? Leia felt the dark waves crashing around her, tugging at her feet again. She had been running away from them for so long, but they always followed, always haunted, threatening to break over her and carry her away. She was exhausted; so, so tired. She looked around the room at her packed crates and travel case. Then, squaring her shoulders, she headed for the door, leaving them all behind.

Leia Organa was done running away.

* * *

The control room was shaking. Chunks of ice were falling from the ceiling, but Leia ignored them and carried on, intent on her purpose of getting everyone safely evacuated.

Everyone but her.

She figured that if she were going to go down, this would be a good way to go — fighting for hope for the rest of the galaxy, and saving as many lives as she could. It was only a tiny atom in the galaxy of her debt, of course — billions of lives had been lost because of her — but it was something. She would fight for the Rebellion until her dying breath, and then would come the escape. Blessed oblivion, if the Force was kind. If not — well, at this point it would almost be a relief to hear the accusations of the dead, to receive her punishment, and have it over with. Better that than the ghosts of guilt that gnawed at her, eating her alive, even in her sleep. Or the storm of fear and furor that raged endlessly in her mind. Maybe in death she'd find peace.

"Your Highness, we'd better get moving," General Rieekan said, startling her out of her reverie. "The last transports are waiting."

"You go on, General," she replied, not quite able to meet his kind eyes. "I'll be there soon." She turned away to continue giving orders to the chief controller, but Rieekan caught her arm and brought her back around to face him, catching her gaze before she knew what was happening. He regarded her for a moment, and she thought for a second she saw a knowing look pass over her fellow Alderaanian's eyes.

"I think you should come now, Princess," he implored, more quietly this time. "We need you."

She took a deep breath. "I'll be there soon, I promise," she insisted, wondering at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue, "but I think I'm needed more here at the moment. Please, General, you go on, and I'll catch up shortly."

After a moment, he sighed and nodded, apparently taking her words at face value. She felt a brief jolt of guilt, followed by relief as she watched him walk away. He had been the closest thing she'd had to a father figure over the past few years, and she would never forgive herself if he didn't escape. _May the Force be with you, Carlist Rieekan_ , she thought, sending him her silent benediction. Then she turned off her comlink and returned to the task at hand.

Everything was in chaos. Walkers were destroying the troops and Rogue Squadron's snowspeeders outside, and at the rate the command center was falling to pieces all around her, Leia guessed Echo Base might not last all that much longer. Still, there were a lot of soldiers who remained in the fight, doing their best to give the transports their chance at escape, and she and those left in the command center remained with the goal of coordinating their efforts and minimizing their losses as much as possible. She threw herself into the work, losing herself in strategy and grim determination.

She barely even noticed Threepio's arrival, and she only felt mildly annoyed by his incessant pleas for her to get to safety. The dutiful droid had, it seemed, stopped by her room and, upon finding her things still there, took it upon himself to see that they were delivered safely to a transport. As exasperating as he could be sometimes, Leia truly did appreciate Threepio's loyalty and concern. She wished she could manage to convince him to leave her and make it to a transport, but she was so busy studying the mayhem outside and orchestrating the various troop movements that she couldn't spare the time it would take to persuade him. She hoped his self-preservation protocol would kick in soon and that he'd leave of his own accord.

Suddenly, the command center was rocked by a nearby explosion, and the room plunged into darkness as a part of the ceiling caved in. Leia was glanced by a falling chunk of ice; it was enough to throw her to the floor. When the lights flickered back on, the room was in shambles; their equipment all askew. Dazed, Leia got to her feet and brushed herself off. Cries for help came from under the rubble, and she and some others rushed to pull out the injured man, who had a broken leg. A nearby droid wasn't so lucky. "Controllers Allren and Derit," she ordered, "help Commander Moray get to the transport. And stay there!" she called out after them as they helped the hobbling man to the door. "We'll be initiating the retreat soon."

"Oh! Mistress Leia!" Threepio wailed from near the wall. If a droid could be hysterical, he was nearly there. "We _must_ leave now or we'll be buried here forever!"

Leia was distracted, however, by what had just developed outside. "Where's Rogue Leader?" she demanded anxiously. "Why isn't he responding?"

"It looks like Luke's speeder went down," one of the controllers replied, "but he appears to have survived the landing."

Another communications officer called out from across the room. "I just got through to his personal comm — he's alright but he's on foot."

"Well, tell him to get to his X-wing and get out of here!" Leia shot back, sending out a silent plea in the direction of her friend. The base shook again, sending fresh showers of ice from the ceiling, and causing a definite increase in Threepio's plaintive cries. Leia walked past him to look at one of the controllers' monitors. The battle outside was growing more and more bleak by the second. It wouldn't be long now.

She wondered what death would feel like. Certainly it could be no worse than the torture she'd endured on the Death Star. It would likely be a whole lot quicker, too, as long as she managed to avoid capture. Even so, she wasn't without resource if that did happen — this time around, she had a pill sewn into her sleeve that would do the job if worse came to worst.

"Send all troops in sector four to reinforce the battalion in sector six," she ordered, leaning over Chief Controller Farr to get a better look at the screen.

"You all right?" a familiar voice she thought was long gone called out gruffly from across the room. She turned, startled, and found herself face to face with Han.

"Why are you still here?" she demanded incredulously, before turning back to the screen.

"I heard the command center had been hit."

"You've got your clearance to leave," she replied, unnerved by Han's appearance. What was he thinking? If he didn't hurry, this would be his tomb as well.

"Don't worry, I'll leave," Han asserted, voice set with determination, "but first I'm gonna get you to your ship!" Leia groaned inwardly. Of all the people to come and try to ruin her plans. What did he really care anyway, once all was said and done?

Threepio piped up again beside her. "Your Highness, we must take this last transport! It's our only hope!"

"Send all troops in sector twelve to the south slope to protect the fighters," Leia bellowed, brushing past Han to confer with Controller Correl at his station. No sooner had she gotten there than another explosion shook the command center, nearly knocking her off her feet again and once more causing Threepio to cry out in terror.

"Imperial troops have entered the base!" a voice repeated frantically from over the comm, and Leia felt a sudden chill of uncertainty. In that small moment of hesitation, Han grabbed her by the arm. His eyes held her own, and the sheer force of unmasked love and concern she saw there left her speechless. Images flickered unbidden across her mind: Kisses stolen slow in corners of the Falcon. Blasters wielded against the enemy, forces for good, side by side. Bodies pressed warm in the dark, nightmares soothed. Lying together, small in a vast forest alive; joyful, victorious. A child, beloved, with Han's face and Leia's eyes.

A future. Maybe she had a future, after all.

Suddenly she wanted, desperately, to stick around and find out.

She turned to Controller Correl. "Give the evacuation code signal," she ordered. "And get to your transports!" she called out to the rest of the room as Han pulled her out of the door and the grip of her despair.

Maybe she'd regret this. Maybe her hopes were rising only to be crushed again later. But right now, as she barreled down the hallways with Han, visions of possibility still tugging at her mind, she was suddenly willing to take the risk.

This time, she wouldn't let the doors shut fast on her future without a fight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:**

Trigger warning for this chapter: referenced self-harm.

I'm back! Sorry for the long hiatus. Unfortunately, I don't know when the next chapter will be coming, as we are getting ready to move and Darth Real Life has been kicking my butt. However, I do have an outline for this entire fic and I am determined to finish it, no matter how long it takes. Plus, writing is such a needed creative outlet for me that I can't imagine taking a break for very long. So hang tight, folks — I'll be back again as soon as I can. Thanks for all the kind reviews.

And now, The Kiss™:

* * *

The Millennium Falcon was quiet as it rested, eerily so after the tumult of their escape. Leia tinkered with a malfunctioning coolant valve in the circuitry bay and tried to make sense of everything. The events of the last few hours had been astonishing, to say the least. She'd gone from resigned despair to wild hope in the span of a few seconds, and had soon found herself outrunning tenacious Imperials with Han, Chewbacca and Threepio in this piece of garbage ship that currently refused to go to lightspeed. They'd narrowly avoided being captured or vaporized by three Star Destroyers and a ridiculous amount of TIE fighters, and they'd narrowly avoided being smashed to obliteration by an actual asteroid field. Now, they were sheltering in a cave inside one of the asteroids, listening uneasily to the occasional faint sounds of Imperial bombardment on the surface, and working on making the Falcon moderately space-worthy again.

Leia had no idea how they were still alive.

She picked up the welder and began repairing a damaged canister mount, fighting off annoyance at the dismal state of Han's ship. He'd had weeks to do his repairs after Ord Mantell; that should have been plenty of time. Why hadn't he finished, or come anywhere near close? Sparks leapt through the air in front of her, glowing bright in the dim, cramped enclosure of the circuitry bay.

 _Han_. He had, as usual, exasperated her to no end on this trip. His antics flying the Falcon to escape their Imperial pursuers had left her white-knuckled, and they'd been at each other's throats the whole way. She had, however, watched as his hands expertly guided the Falcon through it all, and she admitted that somehow his half-baked gambles had allowed them a temporary escape. Honestly, she was impressed, though she wasn't inclined to admit it to his face. And even more than impressed, she was grateful. He'd come back for her, despite it all. She hadn't thought there was anything left for him to come back to, but apparently he disagreed; disagreed enough to risk everything.

She still remembered the look in Han's eyes, there in the command center back on Hoth. And she still remembered what she had seen there, the visions of a future that had danced in her mind. She wondered if there was any shred of reality to them.

Her mind wandered as she worked. She thought of his hands, on the Falcon, on the small of her back, grabbing her own as they ran through countless dangers over the years. His eyes, full of want on Ord Mantell, full of concern and something deeper in the command center. His body, shielding hers from an ice cave-in during their escape, and so close against her own in the cockpit, just an hour ago, after they'd landed in the asteroid cave. Leia found herself dwelling on the memory. A bomb going off on the surface had thrown her right into Han's lap, and he'd lost no time in wrapping his arms around her. He felt warm and safe, like home, and the energy between them pulsed, and for a moment, she didn't want to leave. He'd goaded her, of course, made some stupid comment about her getting "excited," and the moment was soon over, but now, for just a second, she allowed herself to wonder what might have happened if she had simply stayed there.

She blushed. Annoyed with herself, she tried to wipe it off her face with a grimace. What was getting into her? For all she knew, he was planning on dropping her back off with the Alliance and leaving again.

Taking off her protective goggles, she set the welder back down, put the mount back in position, and reached for the valve's reset lever. It wouldn't budge. Her hands ached, bruises still flowering from her mistreatment of them the day before, and they were cold now that the warmth emanating off her welding was extinguished. She cursed under her breath and tried again. Suddenly Han was behind her, reaching his arms around her again, cornering her in the cramped space. Instinct kicked in and she shouldered him away rather violently, sending him a glare before turning back to the stubborn lever.

"Hey, Your Worship, I'm only trying to help," Han grumbled, infusing the title with even more sarcasm than usual.

Leia rolled her eyes and threw her whole weight against the lever. "Would you please stop calling me that?"

Surprisingly, he relented. "Sure, Leia."

"You make it so difficult sometimes."

"I do, I really do," he admitted. "You could be a little nicer though. Come on, admit it, sometimes you think I'm alright."

Leia gave up on the lever and raised one of her bruised knuckles to her lips in an effort to ease the pain. Conceding, she turned to face Han. "Occasionally. Maybe. When you aren't acting like a scoundrel."

He was staring tenderly at her still-raised hands with a curious expression, and before she could draw them away — before she could escape, run away, hide from him all evidence of her pain and weakness — he had taken them in his own, massaging carefully around the bruises. His hands were warm. She tried not to think about how good it felt. "Scoundrel?" he teased, eyes glinting merrily. " _Scoundrel?_ I like the sound of that." He smiled and continued kneading her aching hands, and suddenly Leia felt like the situation was careening out of her control.

"Stop that," she demanded, embarrassed.

"Stop what?"

"Stop that." She reached for an excuse. "My hands are dirty."

"My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?"

"Afraid?" she whispered, any defense scrambling away as he leaned in closer. She stepped back against the wall, heart beating wildly, and she noted, once again, that his eyes were flecked with green. They searched her own, knowing; deep wells of unplumbed passion. Part of her still wanted to run away, and yet….

"You're trembling," he pointed out.

"I'm not trembling." The denial was almost irrepressible. Sometimes it felt like arguing was the only thing she knew how to do; her words sacrificed to the raging battle inside. Was she even arguing with him anymore, or with herself? Had her arguments ever really been about him? Sure, he had frustrated her time and time again with his words and actions, but when it came down to it, did she allow herself to let loose on him because he was the only one rogue enough to take it and understand, the only one willing to give her release?

"You like me _because_ I'm a scoundrel," Han continued, still looking at her in that way that made her feel as if all her protective walls were made of nothing more than clear glass. "There aren't enough scoundrels in your life."

He was so close now. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the air seemed to arc with the same electricity that sparked from her welding earlier, setting off a low buzz she felt in her bones. "I happen to like nice men," she insisted, voice barely above a whisper, but right then she knew it was futile. She wanted this. Oh gods, she'd wanted this for so long.

"I'm nice men," he murmured. She opened her mouth to argue back, but suddenly his lips caught hers, enveloping hers, warm and gentle and smooth, better than all the dreams she'd tried to ignore; burning all her arguments and fear away until all she knew was him, _finally_ , them together, melting together, electric and alive. She never wanted it to end. Too soon he broke it off, eyes questioning.

For a moment she just looked at him, stunned, as all her feelings resolved into the clarity of desire. "Okay, hotshot," she whispered, acquiescing. The hint of a smile played on the corners of his lips, and before she knew it she was pulling him back towards her and kissing him again, harder, more passionately this time. He bent her back against the wall, and she reached up to stroke the hair on the back of his neck, like she'd always longed to do. He tasted like passion, and freedom, and bliss, and — some kind of commitment, even? Dedication, devotion. This, Leia thought, was sacred.

Not sacred enough for Threepio, apparently. "Sir, sir!" the droid exclaimed, tapping on Han's shoulder. "I've isolated the reverse power flux coupling!"

Like that, it was over. Han turned to confront the source of their interruption. "Thank you!" he snarled, backing the droid toward the door. "Thank you very much!" But now that his eyes weren't on her, Leia felt all her fears rushing in once more. Overwhelmed, she turned and slipped quietly out of the room.

* * *

Aside from the whirring of the life support systems and a handful of glowing indicator lights, the cockpit of the Falcon was silent and dark, a comforting contrast against the loudness of Leia's inner landscape. Her emotions were a whirlwind of fear and desire, barreling through all of her carefully built edifices and cities of control. She sat in the co-pilot's seat and tried to make sense of it all, a hard task when her mind was determined to keep giddily replaying what had happened just a short while ago.

Han had kissed her.

He had taken her aching hands, seen her bruises, and kissed her.

She could still see the look of elation in his eyes when she finally gave way; she could still feel the softness and warmth of his lips on hers, as he kissed her like she'd never been kissed before.

She wondered at his tenacity in pursuing her all these years, despite her attempts to push her feelings away at almost every turn. She hadn't been kind. Even on this trip, despair had been banished only for anxiety to take its place, and she had lashed out at him continuously, her shields up despite herself. She felt as if she'd been frozen for so long, she didn't know how to melt. But here he was changing all of that, applying heat with newfound determination, and he'd melted right through her defenses and kissed her.

And she'd kissed him back. She'd been shocked, really, at the magnitude of her passion and desire. She'd kept that part of herself locked behind closed doors for so long, because, when it came down to it, it was like Han had said: she _was_ afraid. Terrified, in fact. Scared to death of the power love had over her: of the risks she found herself considering; of the way she really wanted this, wanted him. Scared that she wasn't enough for him, that she'd never be enough; that he'd delve deep only to discover wreckage and emptiness, an asteroid field where some green and living planet should have been.

Most of all, she was scared of gaining something so good, so beautiful, so extraordinarily alive, only to lose it, lose him, just like she had lost everything else before.

The sound of distant bombs grew louder again, rupturing the quiet.

Could she risk it? Could she walk this ledge, forward into something new and beautiful? Could she live with the danger of falling; of all her cities falling into ruin?

Sitting there in the cockpit, gazing out into the thick darkness of the cave, she realized that she already knew the answer. _Yes._ Her answer was yes, had been yes ever since she made the decision to leave Echo Base with Han. Life itself was a risk, but she'd chosen it, in part to see where this particular ledge would lead, and she wasn't ready to give up again just yet.

Still, she was entering what was for her almost entirely uncharted territory, and she'd have to be careful, take it slow. She felt her heart opening gentle to a world of possibilities, but there were limits to what she could take, and some things she wasn't ready to give — not yet. Not until she knew he'd always be around.

Her eyes settled questioningly on the pilot's chair, then on the controls in front of it — an extension of him, she thought, his hands so often fused with them to thread deftly through the fabric of space.

What were his intentions with her, anyway? A part of her still wondered if she was just another conquest for him; if thawing her was a challenge and once he got what he wanted, he'd be even less inclined to stick around. And yet, he'd come back for her on Hoth. She kept returning to that truth. He'd come back, even after all they'd said to hurt one another, even after she thought he was shaking her dust off his feet, leaving for good. That had to count for something. And that look in his eyes in the command center had to count too. She couldn't deny what she'd seen plainly written there.

Outside in the shadows of the cave, something moved. Leia blinked, startled. Had she imagined it? She rose from the copilot's seat and peered out the viewport, searching the gloom. Suddenly, with a screech and a squelch, a huge sucker, brown and tentacled and grasping, latched onto the window right above her. Jumping back, she let out an involuntary scream. Breathless, she ran to find Han, who was in the main hold, making some repairs behind a bulkhead with Chewbacca.

"There's something out there," she announced to everyone, embarrassment creeping in as the shock wore off. "Outside, in the cave." She inwardly scolded herself for being so easily frightened, but when she saw the look on Han's face as a fresh clanging sound erupted from the hull, she felt somewhat justified. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"I'm going out there," Han muttered, already headed for the breath masks in the hall.

Leia ran after him. "Are you crazy?"

Han looked more angry than afraid. "I just got this bucket back together; I'm not going to let something tear it apart!"

"Ohhh, then I'm going with you!" Leia asserted, pushing back her fear as she grabbed another breath mask and followed him to the hatch, Chewbacca close behind.

They emerged cautiously onto the boarding ramp, scanning for any sign of the attacker. The air was strangely dense and humid, and a mist clouded their view, making it impossible to see very far in front of them. Leia followed Han out onto the floor of the cavern.

"This ground sure feels strange," she remarked, her voice taking on a slight metallic ring as the comlink in her breath mask transmitted her words to Han and Chewie. "It doesn't feel like rock." She peered through the mist, some nameless feeling rising inside her and filling her with dread. There was a _presence_ , here — perhaps their shadowy attacker? — and the cave was permeated with the threat of its menace. Even the rock under her feet (or whatever it was; it was too squishy to be entirely rock) seemed full of a silent and ominous power. She imagined the entire cavern collapsing; no, shrinking — constricting around them, crushing them like a boa snake.

"There's an awful lot of moisture in here," Han observed.

Leia nodded. "I don't know," she worried aloud. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Yeah," Han agreed. All at once, he whipped around, senses on alert. "Watch out!" he yelled. There was a flash from his blaster and a large shape fell off the Falcon's hull. "It's alright, it's alright," he said, hurrying forward, Chewie moaning something as he approached from the other side of the ship. _I have got to learn how to understand Shyriiwook,_ Leia thought to herself, not for the first time.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Han continued, examining the fallen creature. "A mynock. Chewie, check the rest of the ship and make sure there're no more attached. Chewing on the power cables," he muttered. Leia could sense his frustration from several meters away.

"Mynocks," she repeated, scrunching up her face in disgust. She'd never seen one before, but she'd heard horror stories of ships being completely drained of power by the creatures. The life support systems were the last to go, and by the time some pilots became aware of what was happening, it was too late — all the occupants would be doomed to freeze or suffocate, whichever came first, inside their aimlessly drifting tomb. She looked around nervously. Where there was one, there were usually more.

"Go on inside," Han said. "We'll clean them off if there're any more."

Leia thought about arguing — surely they could use an extra blaster and pair of eyes — but decided better of it when something large and leathery hit her head with a rush. A whole flock of mynocks swarmed them, screeching, clearly not happy about the loss of their comrade. Leia let out a shriek of her own and made a dash for the ramp, arms over her head to protect herself from the dive-bombing creatures. She'd almost made it when she heard the blast of Chewie's bowcaster, and the ground _moved_. Launching herself at one of the hydraulic pistons, she clung to it for balance until the shaking stopped. In the silence that followed, the mist seemed to close in thicker than before.

"Wait a minute," Han mumbled, and he stood still for a moment, deep in thought. Everything in Leia screamed danger. She looked around, wary. Suddenly the calm was shattered by another blaster shot, this time from Han. The cavern heaved, and she lost her balance, nearly tumbling to the ground as it rocked back and forth. This time the shaking didn't stop. Han managed to run up behind her and steady her before rushing up the ramp, and she and Chewie followed, trying to keep their feet. "All right, Chewie, let's get outta here!" Han yelled back from around the bend of the corridor. Another heave sent Leia tumbling into the wall, but as disturbing as the sudden quake was, Han's words lit in her a deeper fear.

"The Empire is still out there!" she objected, catching up to him in the main hold as he stopped to make some final adjustments at the engineering station. "I don't think it's wise to —"

"No time to discuss this in committee!" he cut in brusquely, already halfway down the hall to the cockpit.

Leia felt her face flush with fury at the dismissal as she was thrown against the wall once again. " _I am not a committee!"_ she bellowed, rushing after him into the cockpit. Chewie was already there, and by the sound of it, the Falcon's start-up sequence was well underway. "You can't make the jump to lightspeed in this asteroid field!" she said, throwing herself into the seat behind Han.

"Sit down, sweetheart, we're taking off!"

Leia wanted to wring his neck, but something stopped her from retorting. As the ship swiveled around, she caught sight of the cave's opening and froze. Something wasn't right. As they sped towards the entrance, away from the mists that had gathered in the asteroid's depths, the mouth of the cave, which should have looked larger as they approached, was quickly growing smaller. She thought of the boa.

"Look!" Threepio wailed from the door.

"I see it, I see it," Han replied.

"The cave is collapsing!" Leia finally stammered.

"This is no cave," said Han.

"What?" she shrieked, but right then she knew fully what her subconscious had already guessed. As they sped through the rapidly closing teeth of the giant space slug, she could only clutch the leather of her seat and say a prayer to the (nonexistent, she reminded herself) gods.

A breath, and they realized it: They had escaped the exogorth, and were careening once more through the asteroid field, diving under and around the tumbling rocks. Another few harried breaths, and the ship was jolted by a blast from a Star Destroyer. The Empire had found them again. _Of course they did_ , Leia thought. For once, she was unable to speak.

"Chewie, let's get her to open space," Han said, focused intensely on his weaving. The Wookiee roared in agreement. Leia held in a breath as an asteroid the size of the Falcon hurtled towards the viewport. The ship banked sideways, narrowly avoiding it, and continued to shudder, rocked by the deluge of laser blasts from behind. Leia knew the Falcon's shields were good; they should be able to hold as long as they made the jump to lightspeed soon. _Han better have fixed that,_ she thought.

The asteroids grew thinner. "Oh, thank goodness we're coming out of the asteroid field," Threepio exclaimed from the seat beside her. Leia, however, didn't let up her death grip on the seat cushion. The blasts continued to shake them from behind.

"Let's get out of here," Han said. "Ready for lightspeed?" Chewie nodded in assent. "One… two…" he pulled down on the throttle. "Three!" he shouted. Nothing happened. They sat there, stunned, listening to the whine of a failed hyperdrive. Chewbacca let out an irritated yelp, and Leia rolled her eyes. "That's not fair," Han muttered. Chewie yowled at him, gesturing angrily. "Transfer circuits _are_ working," he protested. "It's not my fault!"

Leia sighed. It wasn't all that surprising, really. "No lightspeed?" she chided. She was weary of everything. After all they'd been through, after she'd _decided_ to live, godsdammit, it looked as though fate had caught up to her at last. And not only to her: to them. Once again, she wished she had never dragged Han and Chewie into her world. They deserved to roam the galaxy free, and now, they were most likely about to die because of her. Or worse.

Han turned back to her for a moment, hurt. "It's not my fault!" he repeated. Another blast rattled the Falcon especially hard.

"Sir," Threepio cautioned, "we just lost the main rear deflector shield. One more direct hit on the back quarter and we're done for!"

"Turn her around," said Han. Chewie let out an incredulous wail. "I said turn her around! I'm going to put all power in the front shield." He climbed over the seats to reach a switch in the starboard wall.

"You're going to _attack_ them?" Leia couldn't believe her ears.

"Sir, the odds of surviving a direct assault on an Imperial Star Destroyer —"

" _Shut up!"_ Leia barked, silencing the droid as Han retook the pilot's chair. Despite her objections, she realized with a start that she trusted Han. Besides, whatever he had planned was likely better than what was currently happening. She watched in silence as the Star Destroyer swung into view, and they soared toward it, laser cannons blazing. They were headed straight for the command bridge. She could make out figures now, standing behind the bridge's viewport. Leia tensed in her seat. Surely Han wouldn't —

Suddenly, they swooped up, narrowly missing the deck. In one fluid movement Han guided the Falcon behind the bridge tower, latching it onto the back of the massive structure. Nobody followed. The sound of the lasers stopped. All was quiet once more.

Leia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them again, she exchanged a jubilant smile with the man in the pilot's seat. Her scoundrel had just played the odds against the Empire, brilliantly, and won. Again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes:**

I'm finally back! Thank you all for your patience. We've finished moving into our new house, and while we still have a lot of work to do, I am confident that I'll be able to write more frequently from now on. As a reward for waiting so long, you all get two chapters today instead of one. :)

* * *

All outside the Falcon might have been quiet as they rested on the back of the Star Destroyer's bridge tower, but inside the ship, the cockpit's organic occupants were having their ears assailed by See-Threepio's hysteric prattling.

"Captain Solo, this time you have gone too far," the droid announced pompously, prompting the Wookiee to let out a frustrated growl, one that Leia felt spoke for all of them. "No, I will not be quiet, Chewbacca!" Threepio wailed. "Why doesn't anyone listen to me?"

Ignoring him, Han gestured towards the two other Star Destroyers they could see out the viewport, which seemed to dance around one another as each veered off towards some separate, unseen goal. "The fleet's beginning to break up," he observed, turning to Chewbacca. "Go back and stand by the manual release for the landing claw." The Wookiee roared his assent and clambered his way between the seats towards the hatch, unintentionally giving Leia a face full of musky Wookiee fur in the process. She crinkled her nose and tried not to sneeze.

Threepio continued his lecture, and while Leia was sure that to his own ears he was being quite heroic, even she was having trouble tolerating him at the moment. "I really don't see how that is going to help," the droid moaned. "Surrender is a perfectly acceptable alternative in extreme circumstances. The Empire may be gracious enough—" Han exchanged an incredulous look with Leia, then motioned towards the droid. Happy to comply, Leia reached over and switched him off.

 _"Thank you,"_ said Han.

Leia got out of her chair and moved up beside him, resting her arms on the console and trying not to let the thrill of being this close to him again show. "What do you have in mind for your next move?"

"Well," said Han, "if they follow standard Imperial procedure, they'll dump their garbage before they go to light-speed. Then we just float away."

"With the rest of the garbage," Leia finished, an amused smile playing on her lips. It was a pretty good plan. "Then what?"

"Then we've got to find a safe port somewhere around here. Got any ideas?" He flipped a switch on the display monitor, and the light from the astrogation display bathed his face in a blue glow as he pored over holographic charts of nearby systems.

"No," Leia replied, searching her memory for any information that might help, but coming up empty. This was a remote sector of the galaxy, and her knowledge of the area was primarily limited to the Hoth system, which they didn't appear to be in any longer. "Where are we?"

He centered in on a system less than a parsec away from Hoth. "The Anoat system."

"Anoat system," she muttered, scouring the chart for anything promising, but not feeling particularly hopeful. "There's not much there." If her memory served her right, the system's only options for shelter were planets the Alliance had advised against even venturing near — pirate-infested, toxic wastelands where people had a tendency to disappear.

"No," Han agreed, widening the map to encompass more of the surrounding area. "Well, wait," he said, his voice rising hopefully. "This is interesting. _Lando_."

"Lando system?" Leia repeated, puzzled.

Han looked back at her briefly, an unreadable expression on his face, and Leia felt a twinge of uneasiness that she couldn't quite place. "Lando's not a system, he's a man," Han explained. "Lando Calrissian. He's a card player, gambler, scoundrel. You'd like him," he added, eyes glinting mischievously.

"Thanks," Leia grumbled.

"Bespin," he continued, and zoomed in on a planet in a system of the same name. "It's pretty far, but I think we can make it."

Leia scanned the information scrolling on the screen. "A mining colony?"

"Yeah, a Tibanna gas mine. Lando conned somebody out of it. We go back a long way, Lando and me," he added, that same inscrutable look on his face as he turned off the astrogation display and leaned back in his chair.

"Can you trust him?" Leia asked.

"No," Han declared without hesitation. "But he's got no love for the Empire, I can tell you that."

Suddenly they felt the Star Destroyer rumble beneath their feet as it began its pirouette into position for light-speed. "Here we go, Chewie, stand by," Han spoke into the comm, eyes fixed on the scene outside the viewport. "Detach!"

Leia felt the deep reverberations of the Destroyer fade into nothingness as they floated away. Stars spiraling through the viewport, they tumbled down to join a stream of garbage released from a hatch in the giant capital ship. Han had timed it perfectly. Leia shook her head in wonder. "You do have your moments," she confessed, reaching out tentatively to put a hand on his shoulder. "Not many of them, but you do have them." Feeling a sudden burst of boldness, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then, lips tingling, she sat back down to let him concentrate on avoiding a collision with the whirling detritus.

In a moment, the Star Destroyers had all disappeared from the Falcon's sensors, vanished into hyperspace. Han pulled the Falcon out of the torrent of garbage and began calculating the route to the Bespin system.

"So, how long are we looking at?" Leia ventured to ask.

"Well, our hyperdrive is shot—"

"Clearly," she snorted.

"—so we're gonna have to use the backup hyperdrive. It ain't fast. I'm doing the calculations now, but it looks like it'll be, oh, about three weeks till we get to Bespin."

 _"Three weeks?"_ she exclaimed, horrified. It made sense, of course, that it would take so long, and when she thought about it she realized she should be grateful it wasn't longer. But honestly, until this moment, she hadn't truly processed the implications of having no properly working hyperdrive in a relatively empty sector of space. She felt weak.

Han sounded apologetic. "Hey, at least we've got the backup hyperdrive. This could be a whole lot worse." He finished punching in the coordinates and set the sublight drive on autopilot before turning around to face her. "I'm pretty sure we have enough supplies to last us that long. We'll have to do an inventory and ration out everything just to be sure, but I don't think it'll be a problem."

"Right," Leia said, feeling dazed.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Han got to his feet. "Well," he started, giving his hair a quick comb-through with his fingers, "Chewie and I'd better go hook up the backup hyperdrive. You can go ahead and grab something to eat and we'll join you later."

"I'm not really hungry," she muttered.

"You're 'not really hungry'?" Han repeated skeptically, concern and frustration warring on his face. It was a look Leia was all too familiar with — for awhile now, he'd been entirely too attentive to her eating habits. "Come on, sweetheart. I bet you haven't eaten anything all day."

"I ate a ration bar before the battle."

Han rolled his eyes. "That's not enough."

"I'm not hungry, okay?" she snapped, a little harsher than she meant to. She didn't want to be having this argument, and to be honest, she didn't think she could force anything down right now, not with this tension crawling up her spine again, encompassing, constricting. She felt a little sick.

Han held up his hands in a gesture of defeat as he circled her chair and headed to the hatch. "Okay, Princess, do whatever you want. But if you aren't going to eat, you could come help Chewie 'n me. I want to get us out of sublight as soon as possible."

Pursing her lips, Leia nodded and followed him out the door.

* * *

"I know, I know," Han said, in answer to another frustrated roar from Chewbacca. "This field stabilizer isn't working either. We'll have to see if we have any more in storage."

Leia looked at her chrono. It had been an hour since they had started the process of switching out hyperdrives, and as far as she could tell, they weren't even close to being done. Disconnecting the main hyperdrive had been anything but simple, and moving it had involved a small repulsorlift, a considerable amount of Wookiee brawn, and an eruption of cursing as a corner of the hyperdrive came to rest on Han's foot (an event Leia still maintained was in no way her fault). They'd managed to drag the backup out of the number three hold with slightly less difficulty, and they'd been inspecting it ever since to make sure it was in good enough shape to use. It wasn't.

Leia sat back on her heels, taking a break from scrubbing corrosion off the charge planes to give her aching arms a rest. Chewie disappeared into the number three hold, apparently on a search for spare parts. Han was silent. They'd traded barbs over the foot incident, as well as various other things, and he'd been in a foul mood ever since. She didn't feel much better. Exhaustion was starting to hit hard, but as much as she wanted to be finished with the hyperdrive, she dreaded going to bed. Sleep was never easy for her, nor pleasant, especially on nights like this when the muscles in her shoulders and neck clenched under the weight of the walls of anxiety closing in. She dreaded sleep, and she dreaded waking up again. She dreaded having to figure out how to live in close quarters, dreaded further eruptions between her and Han, dreaded him… well, knowing her even more than he already did; seeing more of her cracks, and more of the monster she feared was lurking beneath them.

She dreaded the fact that she was trapped here, with no way to run — not from Han, and not from herself.

She rolled her shoulders to try and relieve some of the pain, then resumed her scrubbing. The charge plane she was working on was so corroded she was amazed Han thought it could be salvaged. She sighed, and wondered darkly if they'd ever be able to get the backup online, or if they'd be stuck in sublight until their rations and fresh water ran out (or until the local pirates found them). "I guess it was too much to hope that anything would be in good shape on this blasted ship," she muttered.

Apparently that was the last straw. From the other side of the hyperdrive, she heard a clang as Han set down his hydrospanner none too gently. "Look, Your Worshipfulness," he growled, "like I've said before, this is the fastest ship in the galaxy, and she's saved your royal neck more times than I can count, so a little gratitude wouldn't hurt. Besides, if there's a reason she's not in her best shape right now, it's you and your kriffin' Rebellion."

Leia bristled. " _My_ Rebellion?" she repeated, her voice rising with her growing ire. "You've been with us for three years! And I seem to recall that you yourself volunteered for many of your missions, including the one to Ord Mantell!" She threw down her scrubber brush and stood up to face Han as he rounded the corner of the hyperdrive, indignation writing lines into his face. "You had weeks to finish your repairs, and all the resources and supplies you needed from us. It's not my fault that you wasted all that time." She vaguely noticed Chewbacca appearing in the doorway of the number three hold.

Han stood there in front of her, seething, his eyes ablaze with anger, and — to her surprise — genuine hurt. She tried not to look at his lips. He was close, so close she half expected him to take her into his arms and kiss her again, but instead he thrust out an index finger. "Look, Princess," he snarled, "if you'd rather I'd left you on Hoth, I can turn around and drop you back off on my way outta here."

Leia suddenly felt incredibly tired. The fire that had been surging in her blood seemed to drain away, leaving her cold and empty. "Maybe you should have," she said, then turned and walked out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Leia sat huddled against the wall behind a few crates in the forward hold. The light in the room was blessedly dim, the only sound the quiet hum of the ship. This wasn't the first time she had taken refuge here. A long time ago, on the way back from a mission gone horribly wrong, she had sought out a safe place to be alone, to let the tears come, to grieve over the the horrors she'd seen and everything lost, and she had found this spot. Ever since, she had thought of it as _hers_ in a way, returning here when she needed to get away. The crates had never been moved in the two years since; she didn't know what was in them, but she suspected that at this rate, they were likely to be permanent fixtures.

Leaning her head back against the wall, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She had hoped, there for awhile, that things between her and Han might be taking a turn for the better once more after that kiss, but they hadn't even made it a day before exploding at one another. She wasn't sure exactly how it had happened. In insulting his ship, she hadn't meant to legitimately hurt him. She knew that he hadn't really meant what he said about dropping her back off on Hoth, either. But still, she wondered if it might not be a good idea.

What was she even _doing_ here? This hadn't been the plan. She had changed her mind on a whim, on the basis of a fleeting vision that probably didn't mean anything, and now she felt like her very existence was an accident, a burden on the universe. She certainly felt like a burden on Han — if not for her, she thought again, he'd have been happily on his way a long time ago, set free from her gravitational pull. He wouldn't have to deal with all the hurt she seemed to continuously unleash on him.

 _He deserves so much better,_ she thought, and her eyes brimmed over with hot tears.

She heard the sound of the hatch opening and frantically wiped her eyes, only to find more unwelcome tears taking their place. "Leia?" Han's voice called, gentle and tentative. His footsteps came around the corner, and she hid her face in her hands, embarrassed to be caught like this. She felt him flop down beside her. For a moment he said nothing. "I'm sorry," he finally mumbled, voice thick. His hand settled softly on her back, tracing patterns there. "That was a terrible thing to say."

She took in a stilted breath, but didn't respond. Was it that terrible if it was true? She shook her head.

"Leia," Han continued, speaking her name again, and even now she felt a tingle at the sound of it from his lips, infused with so much feeling. "I—" he paused, searching for words. "I know you were planning… to stay. Back there on Hoth. And," he paused again, his hand slowing on her back, "and I want you to know that there is no way in hell I'd want you to. I'd have dragged you outta there unconscious, if I had to." He seemed to be fighting for composure. "Leia, losing you is the last thing I want."

Despite herself, Leia felt her tears multiplying, and yet again she tried unsuccessfully to wipe them all away. "Kriff, Leia," Han continued, a note of helplessness in his voice. "I didn't realize things were this bad." He traced a finger down her spine, and she shivered involuntarily.

"They've always been bad," she whispered.

"No, not like this, they haven't," he insisted. "I mean, I know things have always been… hard, ever since — well, ever since I've known you. I know you've felt like giving up a lot of times, and sometimes you're too goddamn reckless for your own good, but still, something's always kept you going, kept you fighting. This time's different. What's changed, sweetheart?"

Leia shook her head. "I…" she started, struggling for words. "I guess I was just tired of running away from everything. From the memories. The pain." She paused. "And tired of losing," she added in a whisper. "Luke. You. I was driving you away. I'm still driving you away." She risked a sideways glance towards Han. He looked simultaneously haunted and contemplative.

"I think," he said, "you've been running away from your feelings, too. Not just the painful ones. The ones that make you feel alive. That's why you've been pushing me away." He swallowed, and then he caught her eyes. "I think," he continued, "if maybe you stopped running from those, you would find something worth sticking around for."

Leia let out a long breath, and studied the back of the crate in front of her. "I don't deserve it," she muttered, the words tumbling out almost without thinking.

"What?" he said incredulously. "Leia, you're wrong. Blast it, sweetheart, if anyone in the galaxy deserves something good, it's you."

"Look," she argued, a tremor in her voice as it rose, "because of me, _billions of people_ are dead. Don't talk to me about what I deserve."

"Leia, look at me." He nudged her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. Reluctantly, she looked in his eyes, half afraid of what she would see. His face was grave. "Leia, _it's not your fault_ ," he said. She flinched. "Hell, it's no one's fault but the Empire's."

"But—" she started to interrupt.

"No," Han said forcefully. "You've told me what happened before. You had no real choice; they would have destroyed Alderaan no matter what you said. I know you're gonna say you shouldn't have been captured in the first place, but would you rather have sat by and done nothing during the Battle of Scarif? Abandoned the plans for your own safety? Abandoned your mission? The Death Star would still be blowin' up planets if it weren't for you. Leia, you're the reason so many people are still _alive_."

She searched his eyes; they were full of conviction, and she felt her own filling with fresh tears. She wanted to believe him. She rolled each word over in her mind, wishing she could convince herself of their truth.

"It's not your fault," he repeated, gripping her shoulders. "It's _not_." She shut her eyes as the tears spilled down her cheeks. "C'mere," he said gruffly, and pulled her into his arms. Feeling ashamed, but unable to hold back any longer, she leaned her head against his chest and wept, finally allowing her tears full rein. "It's not your fault," he repeated in a whisper, over and over again, his fingers stroking her hair.

Leia wasn't sure how long she sat there, cradled in his arms, her head on his chest, him muttering those same four words until she felt like maybe, finally, they were sinking into her very bones, planting themselves in her mind and growing into something like acceptance. It seemed so fragile, like it could be uprooted at any minute, but for now, a good part of her believed him, and that was enough. Eventually the tears slowed, and the hitches in her breath came farther and farther apart, but she didn't really want to move. His hand was still in her hair (she was sure it was a mess by now), and she could hear the steady thump of his heartbeat in her ear, beating out a rhythm that soothed her. She breathed in deep the scent of him, all musk and grease and the leather seats of the Falcon, and tried to compose herself so she could say the words she needed to.

"I'm sorry I took it all out on you," she said, finally. "That I've been taking it out on you since the beginning." She felt Han's chest move as he slowly exhaled.

"I'm sorry I've done that sometimes, too," he responded. His arm shifted as he reached up to scratch his chin. "Most of the time it's alright, you know," he admitted. "I know you need to blow off a little steam, so I help you do it."

She frowned, pondering his words. "But not this time." She looked down at the taut arm that still held her, tracing with her eyes the muscle lines of his bicep beneath his shirt. "Tell me," she ventured, "what was really bothering you tonight? It wasn't your foot."

Han was quiet for a moment. "I guess," he began, then halted, unsure. "I thought… well, ever since I told you how long it would take to get to Bespin, you've been as cold as a polar night on Hoth. I guess I was worried that you just… didn't want to be around me that long. That maybe, after I kissed you, you decided you were through."

Moving out of his arms, Leia sat up and looked at him. He didn't return her gaze. She could feel his radiating nervousness, how he dreaded her answer, and she suddenly appreciated the courage it must be taking for him to be so vulnerable with her. To be honest, she still couldn't believe they were having this conversation, being so open with one another like this — just yesterday, it would have been unthinkable.

Leaning back against the wall, she contemplated how to respond. What she felt was confusing enough to herself. "It's not that I don't want to be around you," she finally stammered. "And… it's not that I didn't like what happened earlier. The truth is," she continued, voice barely above a whisper, "I'm afraid." She glanced over at him briefly as his eyes rose to meet hers, searching. "All this—" she waved a hand. "All that's happened, it's just so… much. It's overwhelming. I'm worried about Luke, and the Alliance — they probably think we're dead, you know, or captured. Three weeks is a long time to be out of contact with them. And maybe plenty of time for us to get dead or captured, too. Also…" She paused, and looked down, shaking her head. "I can't deny that I'm a little afraid of what's happening with us, Han. I know this may not feel like much to you, but it's a lot for me, and… and I just don't know how to deal with it. If we follow this path to its conclusion…" She took a deep breath, then locked eyes with him. "I don't think I could handle losing you, too."

Han's green-gold eyes held her own. There was a measure of some deep sadness in them, Leia thought, maybe even regret, but they were no longer clouded by worry or by any trace of the pretense so often there in the past. "I can't promise you anything, sweetheart," he admitted. "I've gotta go pay back Jabba, or else I'm putting you and everyone else in danger."

A warmth blossomed inside Leia's chest at the care Han's words implied, but only briefly; frustration at his reasoning soon took over. _As if we don't all have bounties on our heads,_ she thought. _We're all in danger no matter where you are_. She bit the retort off her tongue; this moment of unguardedness between them felt too precious to rip apart with more heated words.

"But you know," he continued, "we're gonna be on this ship together for a long time. Now, we don't have to, uh, however you put it, 'follow this path to its conclusion' just yet. We can take our time. I won't push you — you can set the pace, sweetheart. But gods, Leia, it's been painful enough tryin' to push each other away. Don't you think it would make things easier if we stopped fighting this, at least for awhile? See where it takes us?"

Leia's breath grew shallow, and she felt a curious buzzing in her core, spreading out to her limbs, speaking of wild possibilities. Once again, the vision in the command center rose like a ghost in her mind, with its message of hope, a hope that suddenly seemed much more material again. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing it to stay. Loss be damned; she didn't want to spend her whole life walling herself off, avoiding everything good in order to protect (or punish) herself. Locking herself away from love had so far only served to shut her in with her grief, laying herself on its altar to be consumed. Whether or not she deserved it, she wanted something more. Opening her eyes again, she sought out Han's, his hazel laced through with mingling caution and desire. "I guess I'm willing to try," she said quietly.

Han broke into one of his lopsided grins, radiant with unguarded delight, and suddenly the buzzing grew to a fever pitch. Leia returned his half-smile. He cocked his eyebrows in a silent question, then gently he took her tilted chin in hand, and with a thrill of emotion she felt coursing through the both of them, he pressed his lips to hers. The electricity cracked like lightning, and once again, time seemed to disappear, along with her anxieties. This was really happening, right here, right now, _Han_ was kissing her, and she felt she could explode from the rightness of it all. His mouth was soft and searching against her own, his hand leaving her chin to weave through the hair on the back of her head, and she tentatively returned his fervor, testing the waters between them with newfound delight.

Finally, by some mutual decision, they parted, but they stayed wrapped close together, gazing into each other's eyes in wonder. Han's eyes clouded with so much emotion as he looked at her that Leia thought briefly it might spill over; a vast sea of devotion and raw desire. Then he smiled and shook his head. "Well, sweetheart," he said, "how about we give that backup hyperdrive another try?"

Leia grinned. "Good idea, Captain," she said, then stood up, hauling Han up after her.

* * *

Chewbacca had some words for Han when they got back to the engine room; Leia didn't find it hard to guess at their meaning. He quickly relented, however, upon seeing their new demeanor; Leia was sure her own face, as much as Han's, was plastered with a stupid grin. She suddenly realized that the disheveled state of her hair, too, likely spoke volumes about what had just occurred. She blushed.

Han raised his hands. "Sorry, pal. I owe you one."

Chewie let out a series of roars with what seemed like significantly less frustration, then gestured to the backup hyperdrive, which was now connected to the wall.

"The hyperdrive is ready to go," Han relayed to Leia. The Wookiee broke in with another pointed roar, and Han rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not translating that part for her, you big oaf."

"What?" Leia said.

Chewie let out a series of sounds that she'd come to interpret as laughter.

"Anyway," said Han —

"That's it, I'm learning Shyriiwook on this trip," Leia interrupted. Chewie looked pleased.

 _"Anyway,"_ said Han, "Chewie 'n I are gonna take her to lightspeed." He stopped, a brief look of caution crossing his features before he continued. "Um, how about you go get yourself something to eat? We'll join you in a minute and then we can talk sleeping arrangements."

"Sure, okay. You win, Nerfherder," Leia responded, rolling her eyes, but still unable to fully hold back a smile. Surprisingly, she was kind of hungry. _Turns out kissing does wonders for relieving tension,_ she thought.

She made her way to the main hold to scour the cabinets for food. Soon she felt the slight shift that indicated they were in hyperspace, and she breathed out a sigh of relief, letting a small pocket of the tension she'd still been carrying melt away. Rummaging in a cabinet near the dejarik table, she found a significant store of ration packs. She also found some glasses, which she filled with water from the 'fresher before setting them on the dejarik table.

"I haven't counted them since before Ord Mantell," Han announced as he walked in with Chewie, "but I'm pretty sure we've got enough food for three weeks. We'll have to do an inventory tomorrow."

"Here," Leia said, tossing them each a ration pack. They joined her as she sat down at the dejarik table and opened her own. Her stomach growled, and as she rehydrated the contents of her pack, she had to admit that these actually looked pretty decent. "Is this Bilbringi food?" she asked between bites. She'd had Bilbringi pies once or twice before while on Coruscant, and she recognized the unique blend of meat, cheese, peppers and spices that left her tongue pleasantly burning.

"My favorite," Han said from beside her as he demolished his. "There are a bunch of different kinds of packs in there," he added, nodding in the direction of the cabinet, "but I always make sure to stock up on the Bilbringi ones. Chewie and I both love 'em." Chewbacca growled. "Okay, Chewie prefers stuffed chyntuk, but he says the flavors aren't all that different."

Leia smiled at the Wookiee. "I'll have to try that sometime." Chewie responded with a gratified roar.

Stomach satiated, Leia leaned back in the seat, subdued by a wave of fresh exhaustion. Checking her chrono, she realized that while it wasn't that late yet in Galactic Standard Time, even she would have retired hours ago on Hoth. And this had been no normal day. She could hardly believe that just that morning, she had been talking to Luke in the medical bay, without any clue of the calamity and triumph the following hours would bring. Quite frankly, she thought, it was astonishing any of them were still on their feet.

As if reading her thoughts, Han cleared his throat. "So… um, since we'll be on the Falcon awhile, I figured I can take the bunk out here, and you can take your pick of the ones in the crew quarters."

Leia opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. True, everyone had always shared the crew quarters on past missions when sleep was required (except for Chewbacca, who thankfully had his own hammock in the number three hold). But that had been a rare occurrence, and it had been even rarer that any sleeping arrangements on the ship involved just Han and Leia. Despite the fact that it would inconvenience him, Han was offering her her own private space for the duration of the slow crawl to Bespin, and Leia was grateful.

"Thank you Han," she said, trying to fill her voice with as much genuine appreciation as she could. "That would be wonderful."

Han grinned, pleased at her reaction. "Alright then. Chewie and I will take our turns in the 'fresher, then it's all yours."

Half an hour later, after a soothing session in the sonic shower, Leia finally lay in one of the bunks, a blanket pulled up to her neck, warmer than she could remember feeling since she first landed on Hoth — it seemed like years ago, now. As sleep slowly tugged at her mind, her last conscious thoughts were of Han: The bright hot fire of their first kiss in the circuitry bay, awakening a part of her she'd kept starved for so long. His holding her close to his chest in the forward hold as she wept, and how he'd felt safe, like home. "It's not your fault," his words drifted by in a whisper, as the current steadily carried her towards sleep.

For the first time in years, no nightmares disturbed Leia's rest, not even the faintest nudge of a dream. She slept deeply and peacefully until morning.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Update 9/14/17:** Hey everyone, thanks for the response to my story! I know I haven't updated in a long time, but I just wanted to pop in and reassure everyone that I'm still working on this with a definite plan to finish it. I just decided to get most of it written before posting any more of it, both for greater creative freedom and so that eventually when I do start posting again, there will be less time to wait between updates. Thank you for your patience and I hope you won't be disappointed!


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